We Shouldn't and Yet...
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Authors: Stephanie Witter
Other books by Stephanie Witter
To all readers living an unconventional love story.
WE SHOULDN’T AND YET…
Copyright © 2016
Stephanie Witter
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without express permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
Cover Design by Stephanie Witter
Editing by Ellie Love N. Books
Formatting by Stephanie Witter
Other books by
Stephanie Witter
Patch Up
(Patch Up #1)
Fix Up
(Patch Up #2)
2B Or Not 2B?
Six Years
Dex
(Kinky Shine #1)
Maxen
(Kinky Shine #2)
To all readers living an unconventional love story.
No, let’s make it to all readers who are in love and those still looking for love
.
AIDEEN
I close the lid of my trunk and take a deep breath. Saying goodbye is the thing I enjoy the least, but I can’t deny the relief I feel. Some would be nervous or hate turning their back on what they’ve always known as their home, but for me it’s liberating.
I turn around and lean against the trunk of my old car that still runs even after four years of commuting to the small college where I graduated. The metal sears the small of my back exposed by my cropped white top falling off my left shoulder. With the blazing July sun, my black car is as hot as ever, but I don’t mind the pain. Physical pain is easy to ignore, easy to forget and push through. I’ve learnt this the hard way, but I guess it’s the way life teaches you things. Unless it’s hard you never understand and adapt and you repeat the same mistakes.
I shade my eyes with my right hand and look at the house where I grew up. It seems like an eternity since laughter was heard in this house and yet it’s only been a year. Three hundred eighty-one days to be exact. I clear my throat and grind my teeth when I feel the lump in there. I blink a couple of times, fighting off the emotions and force myself to think of what is waiting for me in six and a half hours. A new life. My adult life.
The front door painted in a deep, dark green opens slowly and my mother steps out. Even from here I can see her red nose and how swollen her eyes are from crying. It can’t be more obvious that she’s not happy with my decision to leave. I don’t blame her, but at some point it’s not possible to be other people’s anchor. I need to think about myself a little now before I crack too.
She brushes away some errant strands of her light brown hair and walks toward me, her shoulders slouched and her steps slow as if she’s trying to stretch things out.
“Mom,’’ I breathe out and wrap her in my arms as soon as she’s in front of me.
She’s lost some weight and she feels fragile in my arms, nothing like how my mother used to be. She trembles, probably trying to hold in her tears. She wraps me tightly in her arms and I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling of her embrace. I know how this time of the year is hard for her, how this past year has been hard on her and somehow I feel guilty for leaving. Yet, I’m not feeling guilty enough to stay and be miserable just for her. The past year has been hell for me too. Hell with a capital H if I’m being honest. As strong as I am, I know that I need to move away if I ever want to move on and actually stay strong. Otherwise I’m going to drown and I don’t think anyone will be there to catch me. Not when other people are in a bad place too.
She pulls away and quickly dabs under her eyes, but I don’t miss the ever-present dampness. “Are you sure this is what you want?’’
I smile softly and nod. “I’m sure. I need this and this job is exactly what I was looking for.’’
She takes a deep breath, probably fortifying herself to say the dreaded goodbye. It’s not final and we both know I will be back in no time to spend a weekend with her and my father, but still. Saying goodbye is difficult, even when it’s not permanent.
“Call me as soon as you’re there. And if you’re too tired to drive all the way today, just book a room in a B&B. You have some emergency money in your account. Your father transferred it yesterday.’’
I roll my eyes and laugh softly, so softly that it barely makes a sound. It still seems too soon to laugh, too strange somehow. In a way I have a feeling that I shouldn’t smile or laugh anymore, but that’s a ridiculous thing. Life goes on and I need to remember this.
“Now I get why he left earlier. He knew I’d lecture him.’’ I shake my head and squeeze my mother’s hand and straighten up. “I should go if I don’t want to get there too late. They’re expecting me around ten tonight.’’
“Are you sure they don’t mind if you stay there for a few days?’’
“I told you it’s okay. It’s just for a week tops until I find an apartment anyway. Everything is sorted out, don’t worry.’’
She snorts and dabs under her eyes again. “I’m your mother, I will always worry.’’
“Mom…’’
“I know, I know, it’s time to say goodbye.’’ She takes another deep breath and envelops me in her too thin arms again, clutching me tightly. She kisses my cheek softly and releases me, crossing her arms over her chest. I muster up a weak smile and climb into my car, waving one last time before I turn on my car. The engine rumbles reassuringly and I take off. I don’t look in the mirror. I don’t want to see my mother crumbling while she watches my car driving away.
Instead, I turn on the radio and open the window to feel the wind on my bare arm. As soon as I pass the small town limits, a weight is lifted from my chest and while happiness is still very far and out of reach still, the pain is lessening some.
I feel it in my bones, in my heart, and in my head. I’ve made the right call.
***
JENSEN
I watch the amber liquid glinting darkly in my glass. It’s my second whiskey and I’m dying to drink it in one big gulp and pour myself another one. It’s not like this whiskey is fucking nectar, it’s cheap and only serves the purpose of getting a good buzz quickly or getting me shit faced. Since I’m not alone at home anymore, I can’t really get so drunk that I’d need to crash on the couch and snore until morning. No, I’m trying to be a fucking adult and while I’m far from being a role model, I have a duty to behave somewhat as a real adult with his shit together. I can almost laugh at that.
My grip tightens on my glass as I look up and focus on the twenty-two year old sitting on the couch. I still can’t believe he’s here. If I’m being honest I still can’t wrap my head around his mere
existence
and it’s been a year, give or take. With his light brown hair falling over his forehead and curling slightly on his ears he looks nothing like me. But if I squint I can see a bit of myself in the shape of his eyes, but he has dark blue ones like his mother and a dimple on his chin just like her too. He looks softer than me with his full lips ready to smile in his easy going way. He’s shorter than me by a couple of inches and less built, but he’s still impressive. In a way, I feel proud and it’s fun to see how women seem to be easily drawn to him when we go out for a drink.
And this twenty-two year old guy is my son.
My son
.
This word both gives me chills and elates me. Since he’s called me I’ve been feeling all kinds of fucked up, which is saying something when I’ve been pretty fucked up for the last few years. At least, he gives me a reason not to kill myself with an unhealthy consumption of alcohol to drown things out. And now that he’s here to stay for a little while, I have to be responsible. I’m thirty-eight fucking years old and I had a son I’ve never known about. I got a girl pregnant when I was sixteen and I never knew it. That in itself is pretty fucked up.
I watch Hal’s leg moving restlessly as he’s peeling off the label of the beer he’s been nursing for the last hour. His eyes keep darting to the clock on the DVD player and I snort, unable to keep a straight face any longer. The boy has it bad.
“Tell me about this Aideen girl. Is she your girl or what?’’ I ask with a gruff voice. I gulp half of the remaining whiskey and almost growl blissfully when I feel the heat of the alcohol going down my throat.
Hal’s eyes lock with mine and a nervous laugh leaves his mouth. He shakes his head with a little too much vigor. “Of course not! I told you, she’s just a good friend.’’
I feel myself smirk before I can help it. I run a hand along my unshaven jaw. “A
good friend
, you say?’’
“I didn’t mean it like that.’’ Hal clears his throat and he fucking blushes. My son is blushing at the innuendo. Either he’s more innocent than I thought and that’s weird for a guy in his twenties or he’s got it bad for that Aideen girl.
I tilt my head to one side and chuckle. “But you want her, really
want
her.’’
He groans and hides his face behind his hands and I chuckle louder. The kid is too easy to tease.
“Jensen, don’t mention it, okay?’’ He brings his beer to his mouth and takes a few gulps. “She has no idea and she’s not…’’ He trails off and shakes his head, his eyes turning more serious as he pins me there in the recliner. “She’s gone through a lot and I know she’d turn me down right now.’’
I hold up my hands and silently agree. I’m many things, but I’m not one to make fun of my son in front of his girl. I’m not that kind of asshole. I finish my whiskey and eye the bottle left on the kitchen counter a few feet from us. “What’s her story then?’’
